Stark: Raving, Sad
by The Roller
Summary: When the excitement and paint job of the Iron Man suit begin to wear off, how will Tony Stark cope?
1. I

Marvel owns Iron Man, not me. I've learned to live with that. These things happen.

"These women nowadays...I can't say I understand them really. The last ten dates or so I've been on all start with me and the waiter at whatever overpriced Thai bar waiting on my young companion to finish texting before she can look at the menu. There's only so much small talk I can make with a Thai waiter that may or may not speak English. My thai's a little rusty. I don't know how young guys today can take it, but then again I look around, and the guys are doing the same thing. Tables and tables of attractive young couples sitting across from one another that would rather stare into their phones than, Y'know, look at each other. God forbid. I tried to follow suit, but call me old fashioned, I just couldn't. It just felt rude. Even for me. The texting goes on into the night, while I pretty much talk to myself. By the time my date is telling me I HAVE to read Harry Potter, I'm digging my fingernails into my thighs to keep thoughts of ordering a bottle of tequila off my mind. The first few dates I went on with these twenty somethings, I just knew I wasn't getting laid that night. There was just 0 interest on the other side of the table. I mean, wasn't I an engaging conversationalist? I'm a billionaire, I'm in The AVENGERS! Isn't that just a little more interesting than hearing about her friend who plays bluegrass and blogs about coffee beans? Anyway, I just knew I was headed back home alone, which was the real tragedy, because I definitely wasn't here for the conversation. But when I dropped her off at her place, she invited me up, and uh, you figure out the rest. Afterwards, she told me I Had to leave because she had a friend coming over to watch The Little Mermaid. Like this is a normal thing for a 24 year old woman to do. Hell, maybe it is now. I don't know. Anyway, every date since has gone the same way since, just with different women. Serves me right I guess. I shouldn't be out there anyway. I should be at home with a wife and kids. But that just didn't pan out. I could date women my age, but...that never seems to work out so well either. Just for different reasons."

The robber held the cashier around the neck with one hand, pointed the loaded .38 out the busted window with the other. Three patrol cars parked outside. Six or so cops aiming their issued weaponry back at the robber.

"Where's the SWAT team?!"

"What're you new? They don't do convenience stores. I'd get ready for a long night, or an unhappy ending to this story. Or both."

A nearby car blared out the deafening harmonica of Bob Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues". Closer and louder still until the music replaced the thoughts in the heads of the officers when they learned it was no car stereo system. The music abruptly stopped and was replaced with a warbled, electronic voice.

"What have we got?" Stark asked.

"Iron Man! Jeez, it's good to see you!"

"Yep. Get that a lot. So where're we at?"

"Sure, it's nice to see him, but what the hell is he doing here? This is a standard 7-11 robbery. Not an alien invasion!"

"Well, everybody needs a hand once in awhile."

Stark turned and began walking toward the shattered front window of the convenience store, the heavy footfalls of the Iron Man suit clanking with every step. Stark stepped in through the broken window into the robbers line of sight.

"Iron Man?! What- Look, that's far enough right there!"

Stark made his way down the aisle toward the gunman and the hostage at a deliberate, relaxed pace.

"Stop, man! I'll blow this guy's brains out!"

Stark continued on, closer and closer to the 7-11 robber. The gunman pushed the cashier down in a frenzy and fired the .38 at Stark. Hitting him in the chest, the bullet ricocheted off the metal, demolishing a box of Rice Krispies nearby. Before another shot could be fired, Stark had the gun and the man's hand, and crushed both with a clench of his fist. The man screamed in agony and hysterics, before Stark put him to sleep with a single headbutt. The sound the metal made on the man's skull almost made Stark's head hurt by proxy.

Stark lifted the face plate of the Iron Man helmet and looked down at the crouching cashier with his own eyes.

"You good?"

The old Indian man simply stared back at him.

Stark made his way back outside where the policemen had now lowered their weapons.

"Officers, the threat has been neutralized. But you may want to call it an ambuhlance. He's uh, he's gonna be feeling me later on."

Two of the officers nonchalantly made their way inside the 7-11, cutting their eyes at Stark as they passed.

"No, that's okay. Don't thank me. Just did your job for you."

"Yeah, we noticed. I guess we're not needed with you superhero types around. You gonna pay our mortgage too when we get laid off?"

"Asshole!" another officer shouted at Stark.

"Okay, I can tell when I'm not wanted. But call somebody else next time."

"We didn't call you this time!"

Stark lowered his faceplate and flew away.


	2. I (a)

Marvel owns Iron Man, not me. In other words, I don't own Iron Man, and Marvel doesn't own me. Look...shit happens, okay?

Stark caught his reflection in a nearby skyscraper as he passed by it on the way home. The outside of his suit was a cosmetic disaster. Pocked with dents made by shrapnel, shells, and machinegun rounds. Red paint scratched showing the silver underneath.

"Been burning the midnight oil to often, I guess."

Stark observed himself in the reflection of the windows as a woman would in a bathroom mirror. Then he flew home.

He reclined with his helmet off, suit on, and his legs crossed drinking a canned Arnold Palmer. The TV monitor displayed news networks from nations across the world. Stark surveyed them all at once. JARVIS interrupted the broadcasts.

"Sir, General Fury on line one fo-"

Stark muted his electronic butler and zoomed in on the BBC 2 News.

"Digital music mogul, and inventor/pilot of the 'Metal Mate' exoskeleton, Noel Lydon, has combined his online music service, MEGA, with his bouncing, baby war machine, as The Metal Mate suit makes a cameo in the new commercial for this years breakout MP3 service."

A plump young man in an Adidas track jacket sits on a park bench attempting to download the newest Kanye West album from eTunes. Suddenly, a hulking, towering figure in the colors of the Union Jack crashes down from the sky.

"Oi, it's Me'al Mayte!" says an older passerby.

"Bro..." says the young man in the track suit.

"Ey, Ey, Ey, what's goin on 'ere?" asks Metal Mate.

"Uh...bro?"

"Why piss around wit eTunes when you can use MEGA? It's the dog's bollocks. D'you know what I mean?"

Suddenly, the commercial was interrupted with "OVERRIDE" in large, red letters. Nick Fury's face replaced the kitschy commercial.

"General Fury, I've never been so relieved to have you interrupt my lackluster viewing habits."

"Stark, we need to talk."

"Well, we're off to a good start."

"So, how'd your little date go tonight?"

"Look, I know you already know the answer to that question, so why don't we just cut to the chase here."

"Well, I take it that it didn't go to well, considering most dates don't end with a 7-11 robbery."

"C'mon, as first dates go, that's prettty memorable."

"You fractured that kid's skull, Stark!"

"And he shot at me! Look, you can see the dent right here. No, wait...I think it's this one."

"What a shame. Another dent to join the countless others. Your suit's a wreck, man."

"Yeah, well...a fractured skull's a risk you take when you hold up a convenience store."

"Hey, I'm with you on that one, but that's not the point here. The point is, a 7-11 robbery, as cold as this may sound is a civilian problem. And whether you like it or not, you're not a civilian anymore."

"Yup. Got it. That it?"

"On the business side of things, yeah, that's it. On a personal level, man to man, friend to friend, if I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, you need to relax. Get outta that damn suit. I cant remember the last time I saw you out of it. How the hell do you use the bathroom in that thing?"

"I'm a genius, remember? I figure out ways around that kinda thing."

"And what the hell happened with Katy tonight? I only hooked that up because I thought you'd be great for each other. She likes money, and you like big titties. It's perfect."

"Yeah, well, I do appreciate the effort, but pop stars tend to be a lot more trouble than they're worth. Plus, she's got her own money. What other reason would she stick around for if she didn't need my money?"

"Pepper didn't need your money. She stuck around awhile."

"Yep. Then she left."

"Stark...you know money had nothing to do with it."

"..."

"Man...it's been almost a year. It's time to move on, Tony."

"..."

"The possibilities are endless for you. There's somebody for you out there. Hell, a lot of some bodies out there for you."

"Gotta go."

Tony terminated the connection with a device he'd made in private. The TV broadcast continued from the point that had been interrupted.

The commercial resumed with an Iron Man lookalike dancing and spinning around an eTunes sign on a street corner. Metal Mate blasted the Iron Man into pieces.

"Ditch eTunes and get MEGA. It's megaaaaaa!"

"Bro."

The commercial ended and the news resumed, but Stark paid it no attention.

"JARVIS, get the MARK 82 prepped for use. And set a travel route for Manchester, England."

"Sigh. Yes, sir."


	3. Pre-I

Marvel = Iron Man =/= Me

"Why can't I get over her?"

The robotic workstation aid didn't seem to understand his inquiry, and simply looked at him sideways. The best a robot with no eyes could look at someone.

"Thanks. Turn up the music."

"Love From Room 109" by Tim Buckley grew to a deafening volume as Stark lay on the oversized couch with an Arnold Palmer in his hand. He looked and felt hungover, and in a way, he was, just not in the way he was used to.

"Tony! Tony, you home?"

"Here, Rhodey."

Rhodes did a double take back to the couch he'd already passed and looked down to see Stark in a dress shirt, his boxers, and socks.

"You look drunk. You're not drunk are you?"

"Oh, I'm loaded. Lemonade and iced tea. Gets me like nothing else."

On the live album, Tim Buckley addressed the crowd in his Kermit the Frog-like voice.

"Man, what are you listening to?"

"I'll answer that question with a question. How'd you get in here?"

"You gave me access to override the security forever ago. Remember?"

"...I thought I just gave the pass code to Happy and...somebody else..."

"Pepper?"

Stark raised his eyebrows above his red Ray-Ban wayfarers.

"Well, you should change that password then. Just in case."

"I saw her tonight. At that, uh, Trump thing. She was with somebody. She moved on, Rhodey."

"Of course she has. She broke up with you 9 months ago."

"9 months ago? What're you talking about?"

"You broke up in March. It's December."

Stark looked as if he was adding up the months in his head.

"Yes. I suppose it is."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Look, I can't let this pity party go on anymore. We're going out. Get some damn pants on."

"I don't feel like it."

"I know you don't, but you'll be glad you did."

"Well, you can't make me."

"Okay."

Rhodes snatched the Arnold Palmer can from Stark's hand and held it over his prone body.

"C'mon, that's very disrespectful to the memory of Arnold Palmer. Legendary golfer AND legendary drink mixer? He could've gotten by on one or the other, but he did BOTH. Do you know what he accomplished in the world of golfing?"

"No. And neither do you."

"As much as I wanna say 'touché' just for the comedic timing of it, I can't. Let me tell you what Palmer did at the '69 Masters tournament. He...he..."

"Tony...are you crying?"

"I've just been really into golf lately. These guys are really inspirational."

"Well, from here, it just looks really damn depressing. Get up."

Rhodes reached for Stark's arm but Tony yanked away and sat up, sticking up a socked foot in defense. Rhodes pulled on Tony's leg, but accidentally got a hold of Tony's balls through his boxers.

"Yow! Watch where you're grabbing!"

"Sorry, it was an accident. Believe me."

"Y'know, teenage girls and gay kids write stories every day that begin with this very scenario."

"Do you wanna make jokes and be depressed the rest of the day, or do you want help?"

"Sorry. Not in my nature."

Rhodes poured the half-full Arnold Palmer on Tony's crotch.

"That's cold!"

Rhodes took the opportunity to grab a tight headlock on Tony. Stark struggled to a standing position, but stumbled and both men fell onto the coffee table. In the movies it would have broken. They landed on the remote and the news came on.

"We are live in Beverly Hills where firefighters are still attempting to retrieve Mayor Soderburgh's cat, Tiffy, from a tree. Tensions are high, as we are at hour 6 of this standoff."

"Wait. You hear that? Let go of me. I'm up, I'm up."

Tony stood up and moved closer to the TV.

"Yeah, the mayor's cat's up a tree. What's the big deal?"

"JARVIS prepare the MARK 43, no, 46, for deployment."

"Yes, sir."

"Wait, you're going out as Iron Man to save a cat from a tree?"

"Yeah. Wanna come?"

"I think it sounds like a 1 man operation."

"Just the way I like it."

"Sounds like since Pepper left you've had our fair share of '1 man operations'."

"JARVIS, set up a flight plan to that tree in Beverly Hills."

"Already done, sir."

"Sssssssuper."

Tony went downstairs and the suit attached itself to him at break neck speed. The roof opened up and the eyes lit up inside the helmet.

"Tony, didn't Pepper always keep 3 or 4 cats around?"

"...gotta go."

He did.


End file.
